


Undercover

by Jadey Lady (Rabidbee777)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands, Slight Canon Divergence, Smut, drifter deacon, the romance is slow burn but the sex is speed of light burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabidbee777/pseuds/Jadey%20Lady
Summary: Deacon wants to recruit an agent, and who would be better suited to the job than the Vault Dweller that's been tearing up the Commonwealth to get to the Institute?Nora wants to get laid for the first time in 200 years, and who would be better suited to the job than the handsome guy that's been following her around?





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baby It's Just You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807362) by [tf2spoopy4you](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tf2spoopy4you/pseuds/tf2spoopy4you). 



For Deacon, going undercover in Goodneighbor has always been a unique experience. It's a fairly quiet town, but he's always felt the need to take extra precautions here and there; to hold his gun just a bit tighter, to look over his shoulder just one more time. The people however, though ornery, somehow manage to make it feel like a home. That's what has made Goodneighbor so interesting for the agent. There's such an odd sense of community among the residents, despite the fact that a majority of them are merely passing through.  

With regards to the people, Deacon has always particularly enjoyed the don't-ask-too-many-questions policy that Goodneighbor's citizens are prone to have. It has helped immensely with keeping his anonymity in tact. And, while he has a knack for keeping his secrets, the drifters have a tendency to let things slip. They love to tell the more gripping stories about their travels, or share certain rumors they've heard floating around. No one in Goodneighbor claims to want to share their life story, but people are a lot more open when they feel safe-- when they feel like no one will judge them. This makes Goodneighbor a veritable cesspool of information. In the end, that's probably the biggest reason that Deacon comes to Goodneighbor.  

Deacon started hearing stories about a Vault Dweller about a month or so after she'd shown up in the Commonwealth. He had already known about her, of course. He'd taken the time to watch her, study her, evaluate her. He couldn't believe what she ended up being able to accomplish. In the beginning, a more pessimistic side of him had been certain that the wasteland would take her by surprise, and she'd perish. This clearly couldn't be further from the truth. When he read an exclusive interview from her in Publick Occurrences, he was amazed. It was as though she'd refused to accept that the world had ended. The Commonwealth hadn't broken her yet. It might never be able to. That, coupled with the fact that her son had been stolen from her, made her a force to be reckoned with. What really caught his attention was the fact that the Institute appeared to be the main suspect in her son's kidnapping. Strong as hell with a vendetta against the institute? The Railroad could definitely use someone like her. 

Spying on her was nerve-wracking to say the least. She wasn't born in the Wasteland, and it showed. The way she thoroughly inspected everyone's faces instead of keeping her head down. Her habit of wandering down the dark alleyways of cities instead of sticking to the main roads. It seemed as though she wanted to know everything there was to know about this new world she'd woken up to. She'd actually spoken to him a few times in more than one of his many disguises. He was almost worried she'd catch on to him. He'd hoped that the faces had become a blur to her, and for the most part, it seemed like they had. Lucky break.          

   Any night in Goodneighbor was seldom different from the one before it. This one was nothing new. The air was foggy, thick, and smelled unmistakably of smoke. There was the occasional light breeze, but for the most part it was very warm. Humid even. The moon was a small, milky sliver hovering in the night sky, and even the dim lights strung up throughout the town were able to outshine it. However, that night there was an unusual and overwhelming sense of calm. Peaceful nights like these made Deacon uneasy. He preferred having something to listen to besides his own thoughts. The quiet allowed his mind to wander just a tad too far. Anxious from the silence, Deacon sauntered into The Third Rail before the silence could become too much to bear. 

He could already hear Magnolia's voice echoing around him as he made his way down the stairway. It was smooth and calming, warming the atmosphere of the bar. It managed to relax his nerves a bit when he'd finally descended the staircase.  

The natural scent of The Third Rail was a mix of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and dirt. The smell filled Deacon's nose, and he may have gagged had he not been used to it. He sat down, casually ordering his "usual" from an ornery Whitechapel Charlie. The robot gave a grunt of acknowledgement and began mixing the drink. "What're you doing here this evening?" He drawled.  

"Just felt like visiting my favorite robo-pal." Deacon answered with a smile.  

Charlie scoffed, "And they say you're a good liar." He said, sliding Deacon's drink across the bar towards him. Deacon grabbed the glass gingerly and sampled the beverage. "Mm, and they say _you're_ a bad bartender." Charlie gave a light scoff at this before moving on to tend to another customer. 

Deacon continued to sip thoughtlessly on his drink. The busy atmosphere kept him occupied for the most part. Music, people, it was pleasantly distracting. He had been eavesdropping on a fairly interesting conversation when he felt someone tap his shoulder.   

"Hey there."  

The voice came from behind him. Deacon turned his head to see who was speaking, and he couldn't have been more surprised by who he saw. In front of him, hand still hovering over Deacon's shoulder, stood Nora. The Sole Survivor. Hopefully, the Railroad's newest recruit. Her bright vault suit contrasted sharply with dim red of the bar. Her features were soft and her hair looked clean. It was painfully clear that she didn't belong here, but it didn't seem like she cared. A lot of people who come through Goodneighbor look shifty and nervous, even if they've passed through plenty of times before. Nora was different. She looked surprisingly calm, and her lips we're curved into the slightest smile. Her presence was welcoming, but Deacon couldn't help but wonder why he was addressing _him_ specifically. Was it possible that she'd pegged him as a Railroad agent? No, he was a master of disguise, and she probably didn't know much about the Railroad anyways. So, what made him stand out? Deacon analyzed himself until he realized he was taking just a tad too long with his reply. Nothing made him stand out, he decided. This was a coincidence. "Hi there, do I know you?" He greeted. He kept his tone relaxed, but made sure his voice pitched up a bit at just the right moment to stay safely inquisitive; just like anyone who was being approached by someone they didn't know. He was a stranger at a bar, nothing more. 

Nora hummed in amusement. "I don't know, you tell me. May I sit?" She gestured at an empty stool next to Deacon.  

"By all means." He answered. He quietly wondered what she had meant by her vague statement. She gracefully took a seat next to him and ordered a beer. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Deacon saw an opportunity. When Nora sat down, he took a not-so-subtle glance at her outfit and gave a practiced gasp. "Aw, man, wait, is that a vault suit?" His voice took on a tone of near childish wonder.  

Nora nodded, "Yeah, it is." she confirmed.  

"Oh, wow." Deacon inspected the outfit. "I've never seen one in person before. It looks really cool! What vault are you from?"  

Nora cocked an eyebrow. "111." She answered bluntly, turning to show him the number on her back.  

Deacon nodded in fascination. "Hm...Vault 111. Vault 111... Where have I heard that before?" He tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin before gasping in realization. "Are you the vault dweller who did an interview for that Diamond City newspaper? Agh. What was it called? Wait, no, it'll come to me..."  

Nora smirked, "Publick Occurrences."  

Deacon grinned, "That one! Yeah. Wow. So that means you're, like, 500 years old right?"  

Nora couldn't help but laugh, "About 200, yes. I hope that isn't too weird."  

Deacon waved a hand carelessly, "Pshh. Nah. It's actually pretty cool." Then, without warning, he became serious, "Not to dig too deep on personal matters, but that also means your son is missing, right?" A look of sadness flashed over Nora's face, she nodded. "I'm really sorry." Deacon said comfortingly, "I have a son of my own, I can't imagine what I'd do if I ever lost him." The sympathy card, great for getting people talking. Deacon paused for a moment, imagining what it would be like if he actually were to have a son, but he snapped out of it quickly. "I get that this is probably a sore subject, but do you think the Institute could have been involved?" He lowered his voice a bit when he mentioned the Institute, just to be safe.  

"That seems to be the most popular theory." Nora answered. She was halfway through with her beer now.  

"Well, you know, there's this really cool organization that..." The beginning of Deacon's Railroad sales pitch was interrupted by Nora speaking again.  

"I hope you're keeping a good eye on your son. How old is he by the way?"  

Deacon smiled, "Tell me how old yours is first. Wait, even better, we both say it at the same time. On three..."  

"You know, it's really funny that you would say you've never seen a vault suit before." Nora interrupted again. Deacon was silent, so she continued. "I've seen you around. I know you've seen me before. Funny that you're acting so excited about my suit now."  

Deacon kept his cool, "Oh, really? Oh man I'm so sorry, I can be a huge ditz sometimes. Comes with age."   

Nora ignored him. "You mentioned reading Publick Occurrences? I think I may have actually seen you in Diamond City before."  

"Uh, no, that place isn't really my scene." Deacon countered, hoping no one in the bar had heard her. "I got my copy from this trader..."  

"No, I'm pretty sure I've seen you in Diamond City before." Nora was sure of herself. "Aren't you a security guard?" She asked. The tone she used made it clear that she knew the answer to her question. Deacon held his calm expression, "I see you're running kind of low on booze there. Would you like me to--"  

"No."  

"Alright."  

Nora continued, "It's weird that I'd see you in two cities that are so different from each other. I don't hear of many Diamond City residents that want to hang out in Goodneighbor. You don't seem like the druggie type." "Are you kidding me? I love chems. You don't know me." Nora smiled in response to Deacon's defensiveness. "You love them? That really kills your 'good dad' persona." Deacon shrugged, "I'm a single father living in the apocalypse. What can I say? Sometimes it's hard."  

Nora groaned. This guy had an excuse for everything. Normally, she'd love to engage in a battle of wits, see who could bullshit the longest, but not tonight. She'd come to this bar, tracked down this drifter, for one reason only. Now, maybe it was the beer, maybe she was just tired, but she was done beating around the bush. "Look," she murmured, her voice losing its condescending tone. "I came here to find someone to... accompany me to Hotel Rexford tonight. If you're not interested, then we're done talking." 

Nora couldn't see Deacon's eyes widen, but she could see his eyebrows raise. She watched him mouth the word "Oh" to himself. Now he understood. Nora didn't think it would be this hard.  

The plan had been simple, sit down, flirt, eventually get laid for the first time in 200 years. A few weeks after she'd entered the Commonwealth, Nora had picked up on the fact that a man with shades had more or less been following her around. He'd seemed harmless enough, so she'd ignored him for the most part. She talked to him occasionally, but he'd always act like a stranger. Eventually, she stopped caring.  

As Nora adventured through the wastes, exploring the new world as often as she searched for her son, she inevitably fell victim to her emotions. She missed her husband. It drove her insane every time she thought about how such an important part of her life was gone. His life was ended so quickly, it was almost hard to believe, but the horrors of the Commonwealth had helped her come to terms with the fact that he was never coming back. Nora knew he would want her to move on. Or, that's what she told herself. Recently, she'd been really thinking about the fact that she hadn't slept with anyone in two centuries. _Two centuries._ Nora couldn't help but miss being touched, but she was disgusted with herself for it. She should be focused on Shaun. She should be mourning the death of her husband. She shouldn't want anything to do with sex. Nora tore herself apart every time the feeling washed over her, but there was no denying that she longed for intimacy. "Nate would want me to move on..." she assured herself. It made her feel better, but deep down she really had no idea what Nate would want her to do. It took a lot of soul-searching before she figured things out for herself. This wasn't Nate's decision, it was hers. She could do whatever she wanted to. Besides, if she was going to risk her life for her son, she might as well have one more night with someone on the off-chance that the Wasteland took her out. And who would she have better chances with than her stalker? He was fairly handsome, and if she ended up freaking him out then he would probably quit watching her. It would be a victory either way. However, she never expected him to be so full of shit. Now, sitting on a dusty barstool in The Third Rail, she wondered if she'd made a bad decision. He had a strange charm to him, and he really wasn't bad-looking, but _Jesus_ he was difficult. She initially didn't think she'd be rejected by a man who was seemingly obsessed with her, but now she had no idea what was going to happen.  

Meanwhile, Deacon had a decision of his own to make. He hadn't thought about getting physically involved with someone in a long time. He also wasn't too keen on sleeping with what was supposed to be the Railroad's future recruit. However, rejecting her could make her less likely to dialogue. If he ended up pissing her off, she may not have such a passive reaction if she caught him in disguise. She also would probably want nothing to do with the Railroad once she found out he was in it. Or, would a one night stand make things awkward? Would she want to avoid him out of regret? She was mostly sober, so it wasn't as though she was thinking irrationally. It came down to two options: reject her and then pay for another face change, or take one for the team. One of these options was notably easier. 

"A sleepover? Why didn't you say so?" He said warmly. He placed a hand on her leg. "I'd be honored. Now," he leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear, "should we get out of here?" Nora felt her breath hitch. Phase one complete. She stumbled over her next words, "I-I'll have another drink first... to go." She waved Charlie over to place her order. Before she knew it she, Deacon, and a bottle of Gwinnett Stout were making their way over to Hotel Rexford. Deacon graciously offered to pay for the room, and Nora sat down on a nearby couch and drank idly as he made his way up to the front desk. 

"Hey there, I'd like a room please. For me and this lovely lady..." He turned around, assuming Nora would be right behind him, but ended up having to wave his hand at the other end of the lobby where she'd sat. "That lady. All the way over there." He drew out the word "all" a second or two for emphasis. The old woman at the front desk didn't bother to follow his gestures. "I don't care." She said flatly. Deacon stared at her a moment before nodding and digging in his pockets. He counted out the caps, muttering the numbers under his breath. He pushed the payment across the counter towards her. She took the caps, counting them herself before grabbing a room key. "Third floor, last room on the right." Deacon thanked her before returning to Nora. "Alright, the room is upstairs. You coming?" Nora initially gave a lazy hum in reply before standing up with a lazy smile, "Of course."  

As they made their way to their hotel room, Nora and Deacon shared the same thought. ' _God, this is happening._ '  

Nora had never considered herself the type for one night stands. The thought had crossed her mind, but even when she developed her new "desperate times call for desperate measures" mentality, she still felt distanced from the idea. As if it was more of a dream than a plan. But this was reality. This was happening, and this was happening _now_. It incurred a strange feeling in her stomach, and she couldn't tell if she was terrified or thrilled. She was grateful that she had alcohol, until she realized she'd left her half-empty bottle in the lobby. 

Deacon also didn't consider himself one for impromptu intimacy. In fact, he had become sort of indifferent to sex over the years. Mourning his wife certainly didn't put him in the mood. Then, with all the important jobs he had to take care of for the Railroad, he just didn't feel like it was appropriate, and the act didn't strike him as all that important anyways. That's why it surprised him when he got the slightest bit excited about the events to come. It truly had been far too long. He found himself eager to get to the room just a bit faster, and picked up the pace. He fumbled with the key when they reached their room, but when they were finally behind closed doors they were on each other in a matter of seconds. 

Nora pulled Deacon down by the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips against his. Deacon returned the kiss with vigor, placing one hand on her lower back to pull her closer to him. Before long, their tongues were intertwined, needily exploring each other's mouths. The lingering taste of various alcohols mixing between them. Nora moved her fingers from Deacon's collar and began quickly unbuttoning his flannel. Delicate fingers working their way down his torso with unprecedented roughness. Deacon pulled away from the kiss just long enough to shrug off the shirt once every button had been undone. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, and Deacon reentered the kiss almost instantly. He was more forceful now, and Nora was caught off-guard when he bit her lower lip. She was too caught up in the moment too mind, though. She allowed her hands to wander Deacon's bare skin. As she explored, she noticed his back was littered with various scars. The remnants of what Nora guessed were once ghastly wounds, now nothing more than slight dips in the skin. For a moment she silently wondered what kind of terrors he'd faced out in the Wasteland, but quickly decided that she shouldn't care about his past. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan. Her thoughts were cut off as Deacon pulled away from the kiss again to unzip her vault suit. The movement was quick, a hasty jerk of metal that left Nora's bare skin in its wake. Deacon was hardly delicate when he undressed her. He hastily slid the vault suit off of her body until it sat in a blue pile on the floor.  

Nora would have noted a hunger in Deacon's eyes if it weren't for his shades. Why was he still wearing those? She contemplated removing them for a moment, but again decided that the less personal this was, the better. Even if it meant this stranger would look like a complete douche the whole time.  

The room was surprisingly quiet. Nora had thought that this drifter would be more of a talker, given the way he'd acted at the bar. Before, Nora had labelled him as a creep. Meeting him at the bar led her to believe he was a charismatic, even charming man. Now he was silent, meticulously removing her clothing. He trailed his hands around to her back and fiddled with the clasp of her bra. Nora slid it off herself once it was unhooked. Most men would have taken the time to savor the newly exposed skin, but Deacon did not. His hand instead dipped between her legs and slipped under the fabric of her panties. His calloused fingers ran between her moist folds, and Nora couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her swollen lips. Deacon's appreciation came in the form of a low noise that rumbled from the back of his throat. Remarkably similar to a growl, Nora noted. Deacon quickly inserted two fingers into her, thrusting roughly. He'd been able to slip them in so easily; Nora hadn't realized how wet she was until then. She whimpered as Deacon's fingers moved inside of her. Deacon made use of his free hand, grasping Nora's breast as he kissed her again.   

It didn't last long enough. It felt as though Deacon had stopped touching Nora almost as soon as he'd started. Nora groaned a little in disapproval as Deacon backed away. To unzip his jeans, she noticed. It hit her again. This was happening. It wasn't as though she didn't want it, but it had been so long. Now she was doing this with a stranger in a run-down hotel. It was just... different. Nora watched Deacon in what was almost fascination as he pulled out his length. It was almost intimidating. He was just a tad larger than average (radiation bonus?), and painfully hard. Deacon spoke for the first time since they'd entered the hotel room. 

"I'm gonna need you to turn around." 

His voice was low. Not quite monotone, but there was hardly any feeling. It was an instruction. Although, not necessarily an unkind one.  

"Or, I guess, there's a bed." He continued. 

Nora turned around to face the wall, believing the bed to be too intimate; intimacy reminding her of her husband. She pressed her hands against the wall, and pushed her ass out a bit for good measure. It wasn't long before she felt hands on her hips, her panties being slipped off, Deacon rubbing himself up and down her slit. She shivered.  

      His first thrusts were slow. Not gentle, just slow. He held Nora in place by her hips as he moved. There were no words, just the sounds of their movement. The small creak of the floorboards. Skin against skin. Breathing. Nora remembered how Nate used to tell her how beautiful she was. How he would pay close attention to every part of her. How he would practically worship her body. This man was different. That night, everything had moved so fast. Deacon had barely spoken a word since they'd made it into the hotel room. It made Nora realize that she truly was doing this with a stranger. It gave her a rush when she thought about it. It was a fantasy she couldn't deny having once or twice before the war. Though, she never thought she'd ever experience it, and she certainly never considered it happening quite like this. The "nuclear apocalypse" thing was an interesting touch.   

Deacon sped up, and Nora gasped a little at the change in pace. She could hear his breath quicken. His fingers dug into her skin. He wasn't going to last much longer. Realizing this, Nora moved a hand to her clit, desperately working to push herself to release.  

Her eyes shut tightly, and Nora really forced herself to think about what was going on right then. She'd walked into a bar, and charmed a handsome man into coming back to a hotel with her. Now, they we're having relentless, impatient, impromptu sex. A drifter was behind her, slamming into her, driving himself insane at the feeling of being inside of her. Oh, fuck. This was really hot. She couldn't hold back the desperate whimpers that spilled from her as she got close. She came with a shameless moan. The feeling of Nora tightening around him was enough to push Deacon over the edge. He pulled out and shot strands of hot cum on Nora's back. 

The aftermath was fairly quiet. The two cleaned themselves off in silence. Once they were dressed again, Nora finally spoke. 

"Thank you. That was... amazing." 

Deacon gave a smile, quick and tight. "Yeah, take care." 

Nora's brow furrowed, "Wait, you're just going to leave?" 

"Don't take it personally." Deacon answered, mindlessly smoothing some wrinkles out of his shirt with his hands. 

It seemed a bit blunt, but Nora understood. When he left, Nora was almost relieved. She curled up on the bed. The crustiness of the mattress made it a bit hard to find a good sleeping position. She wasn't sure she'd ever be used to sleeping on 200-year-old beds. Fortunately, the exhaustion from "certain strenuous activities" made it easy for her to fall asleep. As she drifted off, she thought of Nate. 


	2. A Forced Meeting

"So, uh, where to now?" She asked, cautiously looking around at the outside. The night was making her tense.  
"Bunker Hill. It's not far from here." Deacon answered. He turned to cut through an alleyway that the synth almost hadn't noticed in the dark. "This way is safer." He explained. The woman took in her surroundings as she walked. _This_ was the outside? It was more ruined than she could have imagined. She idly ran a hand over the bricks of the nearby building. They were coarse, but an algae-like substance dripping down the wall gave them a slimy texture. She pulled her hand away and wiped it off on her Institute suit. It left a dark green stain.

"It's hard to believe that people live in this."

She said it as though it was meant for herself, but also said it just loud enough for Deacon to hear. It was no big deal to him. He was used to hearing comments like these. Not to mention that she was right – The Commonwealth was disgusting. "Yeah, you get used to it." He said as he moved forward. He walked casually, but made a point to stay close to the wall. When they reached the other end of the alley, Deacon leaned out cautiously to look around. He held a hand out behind him as a signal for the synth to stop. She did, quietly waiting for Deacon to check for danger. She followed him as he quickly sped across the street. Low and slow – that's how he went unnoticed.

Deacon continued to lead, and the synth, K2-33, continued to follow. They carefully made their way across the cracked streets and over the debris of ruined buildings. They kept a keen eye out for danger, but it was a fairly safe route by Commonwealth standards. Deacon hadn't worked as a runner in a while, but he remembered how to avoid the more prominent raider and mutant camps. K2-33 stayed close behind him, cautiously eying everything around her despite the lack of danger. Just in case.

Before long they'd reached Bunker Hill. K2-33 asked questions about the monument towering above them near the front of the town, and Deacon explained the structure as he walked. "It's not nearly as big as the one over in Capital Wasteland though." Deacon noted, and K2-33 stared at the tall spire in disbelief. "Yeah, I know, cool stuff." Deacon murmured, "We need to keep moving though." He led the synth around to the back of the obelisk where a crumbling white building stood. It had so little of its walls left that it didn't need a door. Where the walls had persisted, there were tall columns preventing the last of the roof from giving way. Inside the building were a few scattered stores. The voices of vendors and customers alike echoed from inside. Behind one of the rotting wooden counters sat a hunched-over old man. Deacon pointed to him.

"That's who we're gonna need to talk to." he said softly.

"Is he the one who's going to erase my memory?" she sounded uncertain.

"Well, no, but he's definitely going to help you get there." Deacon responded bluntly. K2-33 was silent, pensive. Deacon spoke again, his voice softer.

"Sorry, it's just to keep us all safe."

"I know. It's just... scary."

"Believe me, by the time it's over it'll be like it never happened." Deacon paused, hoping to get a reaction from his joke. The synth was silent, so he continued. "And hey, you'll get to make a life for yourself out here. Away from the institute. That's something, yeah?"

K2-33 exhaled slowly, trying to ease her nerves. "Yeah, that sounds nice." she agreed. Without warning, she wrapped Deacon in an unexpected hug. He tensed up at the contact.

"Thank you so much for helping me."

"Uhm. Yeah. No problem." Deacon's words were strained. He awkwardly moved his arm around the synth to give her a few stiff pats on her back. "We should really get you to Stockton" he urged. K2-33 nodded and pulled away and began to walk towards Old Man Stockton. Deacon released the breath he'd been unknowingly holding. He moved to follow K2-33 to the counter, but stopped.

A woman had walked over to the counter to speak to Old Man Stockton. She wore mismatched armor pieces, held a few extra guns, but there was no mistaking that blue peeking out from underneath all that metal and leather. Deacon grabbed K2-33 harshly by the fabric of her uniform, pulling her away from the woman's sight. They both leaned against what was left of a nearby wall.

" _Fuck_."

K2-33 stared at Deacon quietly, hoping for an explanation. Deacon took a deep breath, trying to think of a lie.

"She's Brotherhood. They're anti-synth. Very bad."

"Oh." K2-33 looked around awkwardly. "So, we just need to wait until she leaves, right?"

 "That's the plan."

 Two months. It had been _two months_ since their encounter in Goodneighbor. Deacon had been actively avoiding Nora since that night, and had been working tirelessly to forget what had happened between him and Nora. The latter effort had proved pointless. You don't just _forget_ something like that. He'd managed to go this long without Nora spotting him, but not without his fair share of obstacles. She went _everywhere_. He'd known she was an explorer, but this was ridiculous. He would've gone in for a face change by now if Nora hadn't killed the goddamn plastic surgeon. Now, here she was, snooping around Bunker Hill. What were the odds? He wouldn't even be here if Stockton's caravan hadn't been attacked. It was just his luck.

 Nora left Bunker Hill not too long after Deacon and K2-33 had spotted her. To Deacon's surprise, it didn't seem like she'd seen them. Praise the cover of night. He all but ran to Old Man Stockton.

"Hey." he breathed. The old man gave him a look.

"Hi there, you wouldn't happen to have a Geiger counter on you by any chance, would you?"

"I'd love to help you out, but mine is in the shop."

"You dropping off a package?"

"Yeah, right here." Deacon nodded towards K2-33. She stepped forward. Stockton looked her over before nodding.

"Alright, come with me." He ordered, turning around to open a hatch behind his counter. K2-33 walked forward and cautiously peered down into the basement before turning back to Deacon.

"Thanks again."

 "It's no problem. Good luck."

 K2-33 smiled at Deacon before heading down the stairs. Old Man Stockton followed her, closing the hatch behind them. Deacon left Bunker Hill and headed back to HQ, keeping an eye out for Nora more than actual danger.

 When Deacon returned to HQ, his first priority was easing his nerves. He was leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette when Drummer Boy spoke to him.

 "I thought you'd be too busy to work as a runner." He remarked.

 "It happens." Deacon responded easily. Politely turning his head away from Drummer Boy to blow smoke.

 "What ever happened to that project you were working on?"

 "Hm?"

 "That project. You know, the personal one."

"Not following."

 "I think you may have called it 'Wanderer'"

 "Oh, yeah. That one." Deacon took another drag from his cigarette. Mostly for stalling purposes. "There were some... complications. I'm just lying low for a bit."

 Drummer Boy raised a brow. "Oh yeah? What kind of complications?"

 Deacon glanced around the room cautiously. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably lower. "Well, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but..." he made a point to glance around again before continuing, "I've been trying to recruit a yao guai, and you will not _believe_ what it did to me the other day..."

 Drummer Boy frowned as Deacon told his story. When it was finally finished, he sighed. "Fine, forget I asked."

 "Catch ya later." Deacon spoke to Drummer Boy's back as he walked away. He sensed someone nearby, and turned his head to see Desdemona. She raised an eyebrow and spoke with deliberate authority.

 "So, what _did_ happen to that project?" she silently hoped her serious tone would yield an answer.

 Deacon smiled, "Don't even worry about it Des." he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder, "Everything's working out just fine."

 Desdemona had every intention of arguing with him on this. _'Really? You said there were complications.' 'It's hardly "working out" if you're hiding in HQ.' 'Quit lying to your goddamn boss.'_ Her thoughts we're cut off, however, by a frantic Railroad agent.

 "Desdemona!"

 Desdemona brushed Deacon's hand off of her shoulder and turned to address the agent.

 "Yes? What is it?"

 "We've received reports from some of the tourists. Someone's following the Freedom Trail."

 "How far have they gotten?"

 "Pretty far, we think she might make it."

 Deacon paid way too close attention to the "she" in that sentence, hoping that the hunch he had was wrong. Meanwhile, Desdemona wasted no time assembling a group to go wait with her in the crypts.

 "Drummer Boy. Glory. Follow me." She ordered. They armed themselves and then headed up with Desdemona towards the doors. Before opening them, Desdemona turned back to Deacon.

"You come too. Since you're here you can help by giving us what intel you have on whoever might be showing up."

Deacon felt his stomach sink. "You got it, Boss!" he jogged up the HQ stairs to join the group.

 They had been standing in total darkness for about fifteen minutes when she finally arrived. The room became tense as they heard footsteps, gunshots, and finally, the telltale sound of the dial turning just beyond the false wall.

 Before they knew it, Nora had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I've been pretty busy lately, and this chapter ended up being really hard to tackle for some reason. Either way, it's here now, and more will be underway soon!


	3. Tradecraft

Nora had heard about the Railroad a long time ago - when she first entered Diamond City. At the time, she couldn't afford to care. She couldn't waste precious time following some rumor. That, and she didn't want to believe that her son could actually be in the hands of the Institute. However, the more time she spent in the Commonwealth, the more she realized that if her son was anywhere, he'd probably be with them.

Eliminating Kellogg and rifling through his memories had left her with no doubts. Her son was with the Institute. There was no arguing with it now. She'd seen him get sent off herself. Problem was, she still didn't truly know how to get there. She was due to find a scientist out in the Glowing Sea that would _hopefully_ be alive, and would _hopefully_  help her get in.

...It was a work in progress.

Nora was working with a lot of maybes, and she had to admit the idea of the Glowing Sea felt pretty terrifying. She would do anything for her son, but she was only human. Maybe she could afford to follow the Freedom Trail after all. If the Railroad was fighting against the Institute, maybe they had an idea of how their teleportation worked? Maybe they would help her get her son back. Finding them felt like a better plan than wandering through radiation hell. It felt like meeting them would bring more good than anything else. Besides, how bad could the Freedom Trail be?

Bad. The answer is very very bad. How could so many awful things be stationed along this stupid red line? It was like a tour of everything that could possibly kill you out here. The trail ended at the Church, which Nora knew thanks to some pre-war tourist escapades. This proved frustrating as she was bound to the trail by her need to read all these god-damned markers. Every single one had been marked with a letter and a number, which Nora dutifully wrote down as she walked. She reasoned she had to be figuring out code of some sort, a code which would probably be necessary when she reached the Railroad. They really had gone the extra mile, hadn't they? Nora snuck around as much as she could, but she couldn't avoid everything. When she finally got to the Old North Church, she sat down on the steps to tend to her injuries. Nora decided that when she went inside, the Railroad had better be waiting with cake.

Nope. Ferals. Lots of ferals. Nora let out expletives that she wasn't fully aware she knew as she plowed through the horde of feral ghouls. She thought for a moment that the Railroad might not be there, until she saw the entrance to the crypt.

"Real nice." she muttered to herself.

Nora wandered through the dark underground tunnels, becoming more annoyed by the ferals than scared of them at this point. Dust filled her nose as she neared a dead end in the crypt. Nora noticed the dial on the wall. ' _Oh hey, it spins._ ' She quickly got to work on entering the code.

R-A-I-L-R-O-A-D

A section of the brick wall to her left rumbled and retreated into the darkness, revealing a somehow even darker hallway. Nora grimaced at the simplicity of the password she'd risked her life for. She had almost _died_  for the "my password is 'password'" of secret organization entry codes. ' _This had better be a good lead._ '

When Nora walked down the newfound hallway, she moved notably slower. It really was pitch black. The darkness quickly set her on edge. For the first time, she began to consider that this could all be an elaborate trap. Then, without warning, someone turned on the lights.

Nora jumped a little too much at the sudden flash of light. She walked further, blinking a few times to get used to the brightness. As everything came into focus, Nora took in her surroundings. People with guns. Oh boy. A woman, who Nora presumed to be leading the group, spoke up.

"Stop right there." the words were enunciated slowly and clearly. Nora obeyed.

Desdemona made sure she was intimidating as she spoke to Nora. She made it clear that they weren't messing around, that Nora wouldn't be leaving until they got answers. If she got too close, if she drew her weapon, if she tried to make a break for the exit... they would open fire without hesitation. Nora stood her ground, unafraid. She even made a point to unload a few sarcastic comments before getting down to business - comments Deacon would have laughed at if he wasn't so busy trying to remain unnoticed.

While Desdemona spoke, Nora broke her vicious eye contact to analyze the group that had waited for her. There was their leader, of course, who appeared wise but potentially dangerous. She was surrounded by one...two...three people. Two of them had weapons aimed at her, a man and a woman. The woman, who held a sizable mini-gun, stood comfortably to the leader's right. She held an intimidating look on her face - or maybe that was her natural expression. Her eyebrows were angled sharply, and her dark lips curved into an easy frown. Her dark eyes stayed on Nora, unmoving. She definitely knew what she was doing.

The man - who stood to the leader's left - wasn't very built, but that doesn't matter much when you know how to use a gun. He aimed a pistol at Nora. The barrel pointed directly at her forehead, she noticed. Wow, they weren't messing around. His brows furrowed in a look Nora felt was supposed to draw fear from her, but fell short. Maybe it was the hat?

The third person appeared to be unarmed. A man. He stood close to the leader. He was tall, muscular too. Nora felt strange as she looked him over. He looked... uncomfortable? The expression he held was neutral, but it appeared tight, _forced_. He wore a plain white shirt, adorned with holes and tears. His hands dug anxiously into the pockets of his worn jeans. Nora got the feeling that he was avoiding eye contact, but she couldn't say for sure because of the _stupid fucking shades_ he was wearing. Wait a minute.

"Deacon." Desdemona broke Nora's train of thought as she suddenly turned her attention to the man on her right. "What intel do you have on this one?"

"Well, uh." Deacon forced himself not to stutter. He paused and cleared his throat, trying to form his words. He'd always planned to vouch for her if she'd ended up making it this far, but things had become... complicated. He'd made this decision already though. This wasn't about him. Nora would be an amazing asset and he knew it. Awkwardness be damned, he would get her into the Railroad. ' _Come on, you can do this._ '

"She's _kind of_  a big deal, Boss."

Nora almost flinched. That voice was _way_  too familiar.

Deacon rambled on about Nora's adventures. His data was a couple months old, but Nora still seemed impressed by his knowledge. Her eyebrows were raised and she eyed him intently. Occasionally she would open her mouth, seemingly with the intent to speak, only to close it again. God, he hoped that meant she was impressed.

Nora watched as Deacon talked her up. ' _No fucking way._ ' That had to be him. The only way he could know that much about her was if he'd watched her, and there was no way she had more than one stalker. At least, that's what she hoped. There's not really a limit on how many stalkers a person can have. She was dying to say something, but she was still trying to read the situation. She had questions. So many questions. Nora decided to wait it out.

After a while, Desdemona sighed. She held a hand up to Deacon to silence him, "So, you're vouching for her then?" she asked.

"Yes, definitely."

Desdemona nodded and slowly turned back to Nora, "Why did you want to meet with us?"

Nora's answer was simple. "You guys are the only ones fighting back against the institute. I have a score to settle with them."

Desdemona sighed. One day someone would join the Railroad for the sole purpose of saving the synths. One day, hopefully.  
"Do you know what a synth is?" she asked.

Nora thought for a moment about the near hundreds of second generation synths that she'd obliterated. The times she'd internally cheered after a synth infiltrator had been eliminated.

"Yes." she answered simply.

"Good. The Institute treats synths as property. As _tools_."

Nora was silent. Desdemona spoke again.

"I have a question. The only question that matters. Would you risk your life for your fellow man? Even if that man is a synth?"

Nora thought again about the near hundreds of second generation synths that she'd obliterated. The times she'd internally cheered after a synth infiltrator had been eliminated.

"I...guess that would really depend on the situation."

"It's a simple yes or no."

Nora sighed. "...I risk my life for people out here every day, so... I guess it doesn't really make a difference."

Desdemona nodded. "Good answer. You're right - we are the only ones brave enough, or stupid enough, to take on the institute. We could certainly use more brothers in arms right now, but unfortunately we don't have the time to train up a new agent. Luckily, there are other ways you can help us out..."

Deacon stiffened. ' _Wait Des don't--_ '

"...See Deacon for details. You're free to go."

' _Goddammit._ ' 

Desdemona excused herself, and Deacon reluctantly waited for Nora to make her way over to him. She did so with notable haste. Deacon took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hey there! Sorry about all that. We can't take chances with anyone who comes in here."

"So, your name is Deacon, huh?"

Deacon paused. Guess the jig was up. "Um. Yeah. Look, we can talk about that later, alright?"

"Alright."

"Great, now, Des wants me to make you a tourist. Little jobs. Bottom rung... I'm just gonna come out and say this: the Railroad needs you."

Nora was skeptical. "Needs me?"

"Yes." Deacon insisted. "I know it doesn't seem like it with how Des acted, but we just survived a hell of a crisis, so we may be just a teeny weeny bit desperate for new members."

"Fine. How do I get in?"

"I've got a job. Too big for me, _just perfect_  for the two of us..."

Deacon explained the op as vaguely as he could. His plan was to retrieve Dr. Carrington's prototype from the Switchboard with Nora so Desdemona would want her in the Railroad. If Nora could prove herself on her own, Des wouldn't have to worry about training her as an agent. Then, she could help them take down the Institute, and then all of Deacon's work will have been worth it.

Nora accepted Deacon's mission - if the Railroad saw her as an asset then maybe they'd be willing to help her. She didn't have time to work her way up the ladder, but after all she went through there was no way in hell she was just going to leave. Deacon was most likely her only hope for expediting the entry process, so she decided to trust him. Nora and Deacon both had a few things to take care of on their own, but they would be meeting at the old highway near Lexington once they we're ready.

Nora dropped by her home in Diamond city to prepare. Although, Deacon hadn't given her much to work with. All she knew for certain was that it would be dangerous, so she armed herself as best as she could. She tried to ignore the elephant in the room as she gathered guns and explosives.

She was about to meet up with _that asshole again._

After Deacon had left that night, the reality of what she'd done set in. She'd always thought that if she'd ever gone through with sleeping with a stranger that she'd feel... sexy? She thought that she'd feel dirty, but in a 'good' way. Naughty. As if men wanted her so badly that they almost couldn't control themselves.

She was wrong.

That night, she felt empty. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted, but somehow it just wasn't the same. It didn't feel like it used to. She didn't feel wanted, she felt _used_. She felt alone. That night, she couldn't believe how distanced from someone she could feel while being so close to them. That man was a stranger with a life of his own. A story that she would never know, no matter how exposed to him she'd felt that night. She'd hoped that forcing that encounter to be purely physical would prevent her from feeling this way, but it was hopeless. She'd never slept with someone she didn't love. She was a romantic, she never wanted those actions, actions as special as making love, to be empty. Why the hell did she think the end of the world would change that?

God, she missed Nate.

The walk to the outskirts of Lexington was just about as shitty at Nora assumed it would be. The sun beat down on her, its heat relentless. Why was she doing this? She wasn't even certain that this would get her into the Railroad. She was attacked over and over again, yet she treaded on, and for what? Not Shaun. Nora didn't mind doing this for Shaun. No, this was for some guy she'd slept with after a few drinks were able to mix in with her desperation. A guy who'd immediately left her to sleep alone in some run down hotel room after what had to have been the most draining, unemotional sex she'd ever experienced.

Wow. Maybe she should head back.

Nora toyed with the thought of standing Deacon up, but continued walking as she did so. By the time she decided to go through with it, it was too late. Some wastelander in dumb shades was waving her over.

"...Deacon?" Nora cautiously greeted him.

"Yep! You like my disguise?"

' _No. It's dumb. You're dumb. Just tell me what we're doing so we can get this over with you piece of sh_ ' 

"Barely recognized you." Nora answered flatly.

Deacon spared Nora talk of his face changes. Normally, he would allow new agents to be let in on his numerous plastic surgeries, just so they aren't as freaked out later on. However, Nora was a... special case. He wanted to keep an identity change on the table. There had to be a living plastic surgeon _somewhere_. For now, he told her only what she needed to know. They were retrieving something important that was left behind when the old HQ was attacked. Nora was clearly frustrated with his vagueness, but it couldn't be helped. For now, they had to meet up with a tourist for information on what they were getting themselves into.

He led her up on to the highway, making a point to show Nora the Railsigns as they went. She was silent, giving the occasional nod as Deacon gave his explanations. He led her along the road way, jogging between explanations and ambushes until he suddenly motioned for Nora to stop.

"What?"

"She that guy over there?" Deacon pointed to a man off in the distance. Nora had to squint a little to see him.

"Yeah, I see him."

"He's our tourist. Now, I need to to talk to him. No matter what he says, answer with "mine is in the shop." Trust me."

Nora raised an eyebrow, but nodded anyways. Slowly, she walked over to him. When the man noticed her, his words were frantic.

"Oh, thank god! Do you have a Geiger counter? Do you have a goddamn Geiger counter?!"

Nora was surprised at the man's sudden panic, but made sure to respond with the code phrase. The man looked relieved. That is, until he noticed Deacon.

"Who the hell is he?" He demanded. "HQ only said they were sending one agent."

Deacon was quick to diffuse the situation. "Sorry, I'm new. She's just showing me the ropes."

The man seemed to accept Deacon's lie and calmed down. Through frustrated comments about HQ's lateness and the Railroad giving him such a dangerous job, he explained the situation around the Switchboard as best as he could. Gen 2s, "chrome domes" as he called them, had overran the Slocum's Joe above the old Headquarters. The surrounding area was a minefield. Dangerous as hell. That was all the information he could give.

Nora thanked the man for the help, and then walked away to speak with Deacon in private.

"He seemed nice." Deacon noted sarcastically, "Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"Speaking of which, why did you lie to him?" Nora asked. It hadn't really seemed necessary.

"My job is intel, which is a lot easier if no one knows who I am. So... I lied. I do that."

Nora grimaced, she was about to pry some more when she remembered Deacon's question.

"I think he's telling the truth." she finally answered.

"I think you're right."

If the tourist was to be believed, then the front of the donut shop was heavily fortified. When given the option, Nora opted for sneaking in the back rather than going for a frontal assault. Deacon was thankful that he'd be able to work in his element. He directed Nora to the escape tunnels.

Once inside, Deacon finally told Nora exactly what they had come for: Carrington's prototype. They'd need to plow through a lot of Gen 2s to get to it, but hey, it would only strengthen Nora's resume. Nora listened carefully, and didn't seem too put off by the danger. She was more than prepared. Deacon was relieved, he was right about her. _She's going to be perfect for the Railroad._

' _...As long as she can forget the past._ ' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It's been a busy month. Also, a lot of this chapter takes place during a main mission, so I did my best to make sure it didn't seem too repetitive without altering it entirely. It actually ended up being harder than I thought... I also want to thank the people who commented on the last chapter. HancockBlocked, who actually wrote one of the first Fallout stories I read on this website (also one of my favorites, you should definitely check them out), and joanju, who made me smile uncontrollably with their super sweet comment. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> My first Ao3 fanfiction and it's shameless smut. Don't tell God.


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